


The miracle we need

by Helena_Dax



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Afterlife, Bacon, Boys Will Be Boys, Cats, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Music, brian and roger are platonic husbands, feel good fic, john deacon is so sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-07 03:10:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16845967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helena_Dax/pseuds/Helena_Dax
Summary: Twenty-seven years later, a still grieving John gets an unexpected visitor. Freddie is there, in his house, and he wants to take the band to the afterlife. Apparently, they need to give a concert there. So not your usual Saturday morning at all.Or:The boys enjoy some days with Freddie in the afterlife.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic in English and I'm so nervous!! Sorry for the grammar mistakes, I really tried my best. Feel free to check my grammar in the comments if you want.
> 
> I really hope you like it!

I

“John? Darling?”

In his bedroom, still in bed, John wakes up and blinks, confused. What the hell… He is supposed to be alone at home this weekend and while the voice sounds familiar (so it can’t be a thief or worse, a crazy fan or even worse, a bloody journalist), he knows it isn’t a voice he should be expecting to hear there, like it belongs somewhere else.

“Deaaaky?”

It is the music in this new question what makes John’s heart beat faster. No. It can’t be. It’s impossible. He must be going crazy.

And then, just like that, Freddie comes into his bedroom, dressed in black tights, boots and a red leather jacket.

“Ah, here you are!”

No. No way.

John brings his hand to his chest, feeling like he’s having a heart attack. He’s dying and the last thing he’s going to see is a friend who died twenty-seven years ago.

That is, until ghost Freddie points a finger at him and starts laughing like crazy.

“Hahaha, you look so old! You’re like a grumpy grandpa.”

“Well, excuse me!” John says, quite offended.

Ghost Freddie smiles at him and sits on the bed with a little jump, youthful and careless. He looks maybe twenty-five years old and he’s got a moustache and a bad haircut.

“Don’t have a heart attack on me, old man”. Ghost Freddie kisses his bald head. “Oh, I missed you, Deaky”.

It just can’t be happening. He must be hallucinating. His brain must be exploding. Freddie died so many years ago, taking music away with him.

“This isn’t real.”

Freddie’s hand comes closer and John can feel Freddie’s fingers on his cheek.

”It totally is, honey. I’m back, me, old Fred. Not as old as you, though”.

It can’t be, John tells himself again. It just isn’t possible. But the man in front of him looks like Freddie and talks like Freddie and even smells like him. This time, it is John who slowly raises his hand to touch Freddie’s cheek. It is slightly rough and warm and solid. It is real.

_Oh, God._

John leaps onto him and hugs him tightly while tears start falling down because it has hurt, it has hurt so much.

“Freddie” John sobs. “Freddie”.

There are no words. Some kinds of pain can’t be described with words. He loves his wife, and his kids and his grandkids, he loves them so much, but there hasn’t been a day when he didn’t miss Freddie and the crazy life, full of magic and greatness that all four of them lived together.

“Oh, darling…. I’m so sorry, Deaky.” Freddie’s voice is sweet and soothing, and John can’t help but remember the way Freddie took care of him at the beginning, when he really didn’t feel part of the group. “C’mon, baby, don’t cry. You’re gonna make me cry too. Ssssht... I’m here now, right?”

God, yes, he’s there. John wipes away his tears.

“But… how? Why?”

“I’ll tell you everything later. But now I need you to call Roger and Bri and tell them to come here.”

“Why?” God, he hasn’t seen them in years. 

Freddie rises from the bed and holds his hand out in invitation. “Because I need the three of you. Well, not me, exactly. Aw, c’mon, John, I’ll explain later, I promise. Be a darling and call them, wll you? No need to tell them I’m here, yet. I want to see their faces”.

He grins wickedly and John almost loses it again. Trying to regain his composure, he gets up and takes his phone from the nightstand. Freddie seems interested in the phone but keeps quiet while John calls Brian.

“Yes?”

“Brian? It’s John. John Deacon”.

“John?”

“I played bass with you in Queen”.

Freddie almost laughs, the wanker, like it’s easy to sound smart when you’ve been woken up by someone who has been dead for almost thirty boody years.

“Yeah, John, I think I remember you” Brian deadpans. “I’m just surprised you called. Is everything okay?”

“Yes, yes, well it’s just…I don’t know how to say this, but would you come over? I really need to talk to you and Roger. It’s an emergency”.

“An emergency? Are you alright? Is Veronica with you?”

“I’m fine. Well, I think so”. He still hasn’t ruled out the hallucinations theory completely. “But you need to come here as soon as possible. I’ll explain when you get here. Not joking, Brian. You have to come here right now, okay?”

“Okay.” He sounds doubtful and more than a bit worried. “You want me to call Roger?”

“No, I’ll do it. Just come here. Hurry up.” Brian promises to do so and John looks for Roger’s number.

“I can’t believe this is a phone”, Freddie says, amazed.

“It’s also a computer”, John says. “I’ll show you later”.

Freddie grins again, batting his eyelashes at him.

“Darling, you can show me anything you want”.

There was one night, maybe six months after they welcomed him into the group and John had the biggest crush on Freddie, who was like no one he had met before, so free and outrageous, so shy and sweet, so bloody talented. John has never regretted that night, but back then he used to blush a bit every time Freddie flirted with him and it seems that some things haven’t changed that much. Thankfully Roger answers the phone and John tells him the same he’s told Brian. Roger swears a bit more because he’s always had a potty mouth, but agrees to come. And now they have to wait.

* * *

 

John dresses up and goes down to the kitchen with Freddie. He takes the opportunity to watch his old friend. In spite of his moustache, he looks younger than he was the first time he grew the thing. Young and healthy. So healthy. John feels the tears welling up again and tries to hold them back.

“You look fine”.

“I do, right?” he says, twirling around. “Hey, if you’re going to make tea, I’ll have a cuppa.”

“Do you eat and drink?”

“I don’t have to, I just want to”.

John starts preparing breakfast. Freddie is around all the time, asking questions about the phone and screaming in delight when John tells him about the Internet. He doesn’t seem interested in finding out what happened after his death, though, and eventually John can’t help but asking him if he isn’t a bit curious.

“Oh, I know enough. I can feel it”.

John bites his lip and voices his biggest regret.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to visit you those last days. I’m so sorry, Freddie, can you forgive me?”

“Sssht, John, no… There’s nothing to apologise for. I know how much you were hurting. I knew it back then, as well.” He sighs. “My sweet boy… I only wish you hadn’t stopped playing music”.

“I couldn’t”.

Freddie nods with sympathy.

“Yeah, I know that too, darling”.

They’re finishing their breakfast when the doorbell rings. It’s Brian. Even if it has been years since the last time John saw him, the fact that he is there just thirty minutes after John told him to come warms his heart. Freddie wants to wait in the kitchen, the little fucker. John wonders if he has come back to see if he can kill the rest of the band through heart attacks.

“Hi, Brian”, John says. “Come in”.

“Hi, John, care to tell me what’s happening?” he asks, stepping inside. “Why the hurry?”

“It’s a bit difficult to explain. I’m going to show you something. It’s a bit of a shock, so If you can see him too… well, try to keep it cool, okay?”

It's obvious that Brian thinks he’s gone crazy or something like that. Which is quite possible. But if Brian can see Freddie too… So he leads Brian to the kitchen, where Freddie’s sitting on the kitchen counter, grinning like a madman, and John watches the way Brian goes white as a sheet.

Damn, totally worth it.

‘What’s this?” Brian says, weakly. “Boody hell, John, what’s this?”

He seems like he is going to faint, literally, and John, quick, helps him to sit in one of the chairs.

“Don’t die, Brian!” Freddie shouts, dramatically.

Brian ignores him, his eyes shooting daggers at John.

“Is this your sick idea of a joke?”

“No, Brian, let me…”

“Who’s he? An impersonator?”

“What?” Freddie screeches, offended. “How _dare_ you? John, he’s just called _moi_ an impersonator!”

“Well, honey, this isn’t an easy situation for us, you know. Brian, it’s really him. I don’t know how, but it’s Freddie”.

Brian shakes his head.

“That’s impossible” he whispers.

“Your hair’s impossible” Freddie says, jokingly. But then, he kneels down in front of Brian and his eyes have gone soft again. ”Bri, it’s me. I know it’s difficult to believe, but it’s really me. I can prove it to you. Just ask me something only the two of us would know.”

Brian keeps staring at Freddie, speechless, and maybe too shocked to be able to think properly. But he does, after some seconds.

“That night after our concert in The Marquee Club, remember? What happened?”

John looks at them with curiosity. They used to play there way before their first record came out, but he can’t remember any particular story about that place. Freddie, on the contrary, cries with glee.

“Oh, my God, really? Am I allowed to tell after all these years?” But Brian doesn’t smile, he just nods and his face says Freddie’d better have the answer to his question. “Very well, listen to this, Deaky, because it’s pure gold. Imagine: we’ve just finished that concert, okay? And I really need to go to the loo. So here I am, an innocent singer alone in the middle of this depraved city who walks into the bathroom… and finds Brian May with his dick out and two floozies kneeling on the floor”. He starts giggling and John feels the laughter bubbling in his throat too, picturing everything. Brian’s eyes are bulging with incredulity. “And Brian… Brian was so shocked to see me that he gave a jump… and his cock poked one of the girls in the eye. And she started to scream… like a fucking… like a fucking banshee… and Brian started to apologize with… with his dick still out and proud… and I was laughing so much I almost peed myself.” It seems something which could happen again now: Freddie can barely talk. “Oh, God… Brian was so embarrassed… he made me swear…. I’d never tell anyone”.

John is laughing now too, but it’s then when Brian really gets it and his face crumples and John’s laughter becomes something tighter around his throat.

“Freddie” sobs Brian, hugging him. “Oh, my God, Freddie, how is this even possible?”

Freddie pats Brian’s head, trying to find a way to talk through all that hair.

“There, there, old man… I missed you, too. It’s great to see you again, man. Let’s wait for Roger and I’ll explain everything, okay?”

Almost on cue, the doorbell rings again. John leaves Brian in the kitchen with Freddie and goes to open the door. Good Lord, what a day. Roger’s there, with sunglasses and a worried expression on his face.

“Hey, man, how are you?” he asks, with a brief hug. “I see Brian’s already here. Everything fine?”

“Yes, yes, it’s just… Something huge has happened. You need to see it for yourself. C’mon, they’re in the kitchen”.

Roger follows him there. Brian has stopped crying, but his eyes are red and puffy and he is still looking at Freddie with open wonder. The moment Roger sees him too, he stops dead in his tracks.

“Holy shit!”

Freddie points at Roger and bursts into laughter again.

“Roger, you look like the guy from the Kentucky Fried Chicken!”

Stunned, Roger searches Brian’s face for confirmation.

“Is it him? For _real_?” Brian nods and just like that, Roger starts laughing too, full of joy, and opens his arms. “Eeeeeeeoooooooo!”

Delighted, Freddie answers back and John stops breathing for a second. Oh, hearing his voice again... It fills the room with power and warmth and fuck, now he’s crying again. John sniffles while Freddie and Roger hug each other in the middle of the kitchen with the enthusiasm of two drunken hooligans. Brian looks at them openly baffled, although he’s smiling too.

“Really, Rog? That’s all it takes?”

“What do you mean?” Roger asks, confused, still hugging Freddie.

“He's technically dead. Shouldn’t you be… I don’t know, a bit more surprised?”

“Well, I dunno, I guess if someone could come back it’d be him. Fuck, wait, does it mean we’re all dead now? Have you come for us?”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, darling. I’ve come for you, but you’re still alive.” Freddie kisses his head, but keeps his arm around Roger’s shoulders. “Time to do some explaining, I guess”.

* * *

 

They sit in the living room, looking at Freddie. The four of them, together again. John still can’t believe it, but if he wakes up and it’s just a dream, he’s gonna be _pissed._

“So, I’ll make it quick. Afterlife is real, as you can see. Another plane of existence or some shit, I’ve never understood it. Anyway, there’s an emergency. We need to go there, the four of us, and give an epic concert.”

“What” Brian says. And yeah, that sums up it all quite nicely.

“Look, it’s difficult to explain. There’s always been a balance between happiness and pain, between light and darkness, right? It’s just the way things are. But right now, the darkness is winning and that’s not... There’s too much pain and suffering!” He still has problems to find the right words; his brain works way faster than his mouth. “So we need to go there and play some music so we can soothe and heal some of this pain. That’s what this is about.”

John hopes he doesn’t look as dumb as Roger does right now.

“I don’t get it”.

But Brian does, a little.

“Can we really do that? I mean, we play and somehow the whole world gets better?”

“A bit better, for some people. It can’t be perfect, you know? If only, but it isn’t possible. We are all imperfect. We can help, though. Sometimes, it’s all we can do. So, what do you say? Are you in?”

Brian and Roger share a look. They’re still used to playing, of course. And someone like Brian wouldn’t miss this opportunity of finding out more about the afterlife. But John… He hasn’t played for real in more than twenty years. He can’t do it anymore. He isn’t used to people, to attention.

“Will we be able to come back afterwards?” Brian asks.

“Yeah, sure, you aren’t supposed to die, yet. And time works differently there, so don’t worry about anyone missing you either”.

“Well then, yes, sure, I’m in”, Brian says, and Roger nods in agreement.”Wow. I can’t believe this is happening”.

John tries to swallow, but his mouth has gone suddenly dry.

“Sorry, I… I don’t think I can. It’s been too long.”

“John.”

“I can’t. Haven’t played in ages. I can’t”.

He doesn’t look at them, he doesn’t want to see their pity, but Freddie leaves his chair and goes to sit next to him, so close that John can smell him again, fresh and slightly flowery. Like a good scientist, Brian needed proof, but John only had to smell him to know it was the real Freddie.

“You’ll do it as well as you used to, darling, I can promise you that.” His voice is gentle like a caress and John remembers again those first months in the group, the way Freddie took care of him like a mother hen and made sure John felt part of Queen. “Everything will be like it used to be. I’ll be there with you, we’ll sing together and we’ll _shine_. What do you say, Johnny? One last time?”

And John understands he can’t say no, not this time, not to Freddie. Even if it hurts again later. How can he say no to the chance of seeing him again singing and prancing around like a prat?

“Fine, I… I’ll try”, he agrees.

Freddie laughs and kisses loudly in the cheek.

“That’s my Deaky!”

“Wait”, Brian says, “I’m going to need my Red Special”.

“Nah, I’ve got it, darling. After all, this is a kind of magic”.

And Freddie snaps his fingers.

* * *

 

When John sees again, he’s in front of a cute cottage, surrounded by fields, flowers and a beautiful pond. And Brian and Roger are impossibly young again. John looks quicky at his own hands. Holy shit.

“Oh, my God! Look at us!” Roger is so thrilled he is jumping up and down like a little kid and his long, blond hair is gold under the sun. “Look at us, Bri!"

“Damn, girls”, Freddie says, appreciative. “You all were some hot fucks back in the day. Brian! Brian, how come we never had some angry wall sex? This is a travesty!”

“Maybe because I’m straight”, Brian answers, too distracted observing himself to blush over Freddie’s words.

Freddie chuckles.

“Yeah, like that ever stopped me”.

John is studying himself too. He feels so… strong, light, painless. The skin in his hands is smooth and pale, without spots. His hair falls into his shoulders with soft locks. He’s never been vain, but fuck, he’d give anything for a mirror right now.

Maybe it is time to ask when the concert is, what they need to do, but Roger jumps on Brian, and they both fall to the ground, laughing, and Brian screams for help and of course John goes to help him and suddenly they’re playing like puppies while Freddie watches them with an amused smile. There’s no need to be afraid of broken bones or heart attacks, nor are they breathless after a couple of minutes. They are gloriously young again and everything’s wonderful. After a while, though, they calm a down a little. They’ve never really been that kind of silly.

“Oh, wait… Sorry, Freddie”, Roger says from the ground.

“Oh, don’t worry, I get it. It feels great, doesn’t it? And there’s time, we have a couple of days until the concert. Come on, stand up and I’ll show you the house. We can go swimming later, if you want to”.

They follow him inside. It is such a pretty house, with a cozy living room with a fireplace and some art in the walls, a nice kitchen full of food, and four bedrooms in the upper floor. There are also an undetermined number of cats hanging around and John needs a couple of minutes to realise they’re Freddie’s cats, the ones he had before he died.

“Where’s the bathroom?” Roger asks, looking around.

“Oh, Roger, don’t be gross”, Freddie says, with a posh accent. “There’s no poop in the afterlife”.

John starts laughing like crazy, especially when Brian seems really, really interested in that.

“So we can eat but we don’t have bodily functions?”

“Bodily functions… I really love you, Brian, you know? And yes, that’s how it works. You don’t even need to have a shower, you just wake up every morning feeling clean and fresh. C’mon, let’s go down. You haven’t seen the best part.”

The best part. How can anything be better than this? But John follows Freddie dutifully down the stairs with the others, enjoying the confidence of his knees. There’s another door down there; John thought it was a cupboard, but when Freddie opens it, John finds himself in a wide room, full of light. Their instruments are all there, even Brian’s Red Special. John licks his lips, nervous, when he sees his old bass guitar leaning on the drums set. Roger, next to him, puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you okay, Deaky?”

Freddie is at his other side, holding his hand.

“It’s alright, honey. Just sit down and listen for now, okay?” He can do that. There are a couple of armchairs and a huge fluffly couch and John sits there, feeling a bit silly, a bit ashamed. It doesn’t last long, though, because apparently the instruments are so finely tuned that Roger and Brian feel ready to go just some seconds later. 

“Okay, Freddie” Brian says, grinning, eyes shining bright. “Pick our first song”.

“ _The show must go on_ , of course. It’s fucking amazing and I never got to sing it live.” John feels like he’s been kicked in the guts and judging by Roger and Brian’s stricken expressions, they feel exactly the same. Freddie, sitting in front of a piano, looks surprised by their reaction and then huffs, impatiently. “Oh c’mon, stop being drama queens! Are you ready?”

And he starts playing the beginning of the song. Roger follows, still a bit serious, and when the time comes, Freddie starts singing. It is bloody amazing. He’s got the angelical touch of his first years, before the nodules in his throat started to cause him trouble, the full power he developed a bit later and the techniques he learnt even later than that, thanks to Montserrat Caballé. John can feel goosebumps in his arms, tears in his eyes, a knot in his heart. It’s so unfair, so unfair… Someone like Freddie should have lived forever. By the time Freddie starts singing the line “ _my soul is painted like the wings of butterflies_ ”, John is ugly-crying, Brian is bawling his eyes out and Roger’s sobbing over a cymbal. Freddie stops too and sighs.

“Well then, let it out.” It’s a bit ridiculous, John knows that, but it was so hard, so hard. Watching him slowly wasting away, always with a brave face, singing his heart out even when he couldn’t stand on his feet anymore. Getting that phone call, _he’s gone_ , the numb shock of those first days, and then, realizing he had a hole in his soul where music used to be, an open wound which has never fully healed. And maybe it was different for Roger and Brian, who have been able to keep doing music, but different doesn’t necessarily mean _better_.

After a couple of minutes, the sobs start slowing down. By then, Freddie’s sitting next to him, petting his hair and whispering soothing words. It feels nice. After a while, John thinks he could close his eyes and fall sleep in Freddie’s arms, but he can tell Brian and Roger are calming down too, so he forces himself to sit up straight and clean his tears.

“You feel better, Deaky?”

John nods and acting on impulse, kisses him chastely on the lips.

“Yeah”.

Freddie smiles a bit, sweetly, closing his eyes in a cat-like way, before looking at Brian and Roger.

“Guys?”

Brian nods.

“Yeah, sorry”.

Freddie stands up and goes to him.

“No need to apologize, you silly thing. C’me here”. He hugs Brian tightly and John can see they way Brian’s hands cling to Freddie’s jacket. “I cried for two days straight when Jim arrived here.” Then he hugs Roger and kisses him on the cheek. They didn’t use to be so physically affectionate with each other, any of them. You know, they weren’t _girls_. But these are… what’s the expression? Extenuating circumstances.

Freddie lets Roger go, who clasps Brian’s shoulder before going back to the drum set. Meanwhile, Freddie is again in the middle of the room.

“Okay, what do you say? Ready to try again?”

Roger grins.

“Ready, Freddie”.

Freddie winks at him and goes back to the piano. They start over and this time, when Freddie starts singing, it is equally impressive but it doesn’t make them cry like babies, thank God. John can’t take his eyes off him, though; even at the piano, Freddie is dynamic and mesmerizing and his voice could make a mermaid fall in love. Roger and Brian are at the top of their game too: the experience of fifty years playing music and the energy of youth is a killer combination. Freddie reaches the highest notes easily and the powerful ending leaves John in awe, again with goosebumps.

“Yeah!” Freddie stands up, hyped up. “Let’s do it, darlings! How about _Now I’m here_?”

Brian answers with the opening notes of the song, Roger joins quickly and Freddie, now free to strut around the room, starts singing and posturing and it feels like it always felt, amazing and special and right. It doesn’t matter that they are alone in the room: they are giving everything they’ve got. Brian and Roger, who are usually on their own planets during the concerts, can’t stop looking at Freddie’s antics either, both smiling from ear to ear. Fuck, they would sound absolutely perfect if it wasn’t for… John bites his lips. The bass is still where it was when they came into the room, next to the drum set. Tempting? Damn, it _is_ tempting.

The song ends and Freddie asks for _Spread your wings_ , one of John’s compositions. He remembers fondly how wasted Freddie was when they shot the video, although, to be honest, at the time there was also a ‘oh my god, can’t you be a bit more professional?’ vibe in the air. But that was then and this is now, and now he knows that for him, every memory of Freddie is a treasure.

Meanwhile, Freddie keeps singing, clearly enjoying himself. John feels a yearning in his soul and looks at the bass again. Could he…? Slowly, he stands up and walks towards the drum set. Brian smiles at him encouragingly, but doesn’t pressure him, something John is grateful for. John touches the bass with the tips of his fingers, checking himself. No anxiety spiking, no cold sweat in his hands. Freddie’s there, filling the whole room, and if Freddie’s there, he can do it.

So he grabs his bass, turns it on and starts playing.

It’s like he never stopped.

And Queen lives again.

* * *

 

They stop after a couple of hours, exhausted. Well, not Freddie, who seems able to keep on singing forever. “I’m dead and you’re not”, he says, shrugging. He suggests dinner, which sounds perfect, and they go to the kitchen to do some cooking. John has a burger with bacon and chips because fuck cholesterol when your body is twenty-one or twenty-two years old, Roger has a steak bigger than his head, probably for the same reason, and Freddie and Brian cook some pasta with vegetables; food was one of the few pleasures of life Freddie wasn’t interested in when he was alive and it seems that the afterlife hasn’t changed that.

So they eat, and drink some beers and talk a lot about the old times, gay marriage and the kind of (shitty in John’s opinion) music people like today; however, Freddie doesn’t show any interest yet in the things that the people he knew did or didn’t do after his death: he tells them that it doesn’t really matter. He only talks a bit about Jim, whom he still calls “my husband”.

“Weren’t you angry about the book he wrote?” Roger asks, straight to the point.

“Not as much as you guys, apparently. I get why he did it. I also understand why you thought he was bertraying my privacy. Let’s all forget about that, okay?” Freddie wasn’t so zen when he was alive, but maybe when you die you become able to see things in a different, wiser way. “Those weren’t easy times for any of you and we all make mistakes, it’s the way things are”.

Freddie doesn’t explain much about this place, either, which is frustrating Brian beyond words. Surprisingly, Brian doesn’t push it, not even when he realises, utterly astonished, that one of the paintings on the wall, something that looks like an abstract ship in a blue sea, is signed by Leonardo da Vinci.

“It doesn’t seem like the kind of stuff he painted”, Roger says, watching the painting with a frown and an open mouth.

Freddie shakes his head, avoiding their eyes.

“A real artist evolves” he mumbles, before changing the subject.

At some point, John passes out in one of the couches and when he wakes up again, Roger is almost on top of him, snoring lightly and smelling like beer and strawberries. Not the first time, John muses, looking fondly at his old napmate. The lights are off, but there’s still some fire burning in the fireplace and he can see that Brian and Freddie are there too, still sitting on the table. Their voices are hushed, but John is able to hear what they’re saying.

“You really approve?” Brian says, almost shyly.

“Sure, I think it’s great”.

“I never… I didn’t….” It isn’t everyday that Brian has problems to express himself –he is the most articulate of the four of them by far-, but Freddie seems to know what Brian can’t say.

“Of course you didn’t!” Freddie sounds surprised. “Brian, it’s fine if you enjoy it. I want you and Roger to enjoy it! Otherwise, what’s the point? And it’s also fine if you feel a bit tired sometimes. You’re a good egg, Brian, that’s what matters to me”.

Suddenly John feels like an intruder so he closes his eyes and tries to tune out the conversation. He can’t help to think about it, though. He has never really tried to see things from Brian and Roger’s point of view; he just knew it wasn’t his point of view and that was enough. But of course, things aren’t usually that simple. They had their reasons just as he had his.

John sighs and wiggles a bit to get comfy. Roger mumbles something which sounds like “such a pretty car” and pats him tenderly. Good Lord. But Roger’s soft and warm and John falls asleep a couple of minutes later, lulled by whispers and the cracks of the fire.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

II

When John wakes up again, he’s in his assigned bedroom and the daylight is showing through the windows. He’s still there, he’s still young. John grins and gets up; he’s never felt better, so rested. And it’s been a long time since he felt so happy.

He’s in his underwear, but his clothes are badly folded over a chair and he remembers that Freddie told them something about the wardrobes in their bedrooms. When John opens the one in this room, he sees a lot of clothes there. Some of them are like the kind of ridiculous things he used to wear in the seventies, but there is normal stuff too so he grabs some blue skinny jeans and a white T-shirt with black stripes. When he goes down, he sees that Roger is already in the kitchen, and he looks so chic and fashionable with his unbuttoned dark blue shirt and his silver necklace that John chuckles, remembering one of Roger’s old nicknames.

“Good morning, Rainbow Man.”

Roger smiles, amused.

“Wanna some coffee? It’s the _best_.”

“Sure, thanks.”

Roger pours him some coffee in a cup and John adds one spoon of sugar. It really is the best. He takes another sip, enjoying the taste, and then steals a piece of bacon from Roger’s dish.

“Hey! What’s wrong with you? Get your own bacon!”

So of course, John has to steal another piece and eventually they end up frying some more bacon in a big pan. They’re happily munching afterwards when Roger gives him a friendly punch in the shoulder.

“I’m glad you came here, man. I missed your sorry ass.”

Roger means well, but John feels a twinge of discomfort at the reminder of the last two, almost three, decades.

“I missed you too.”

“It needn’t be like that. I mean, are you really that pissed about the kid singing with us? Is that the problem? I know some tossers think Brian and I don’t care about Freddie’s memory, but if you tell me you’re one of them...” He looks very upset about that. “Brian was so depressed after Freddie’s death that he wanted to kill himself, for fuck’s sake.”

John shakes his head because he knows them too well to think such a thing. And he could say that music tasted bitter after Freddie’s death, that he has never really been into hard rock as much as them, that he was depressed too, that he disagrees with some of their decisions. All of that would be true and too complicated to explain, but deep down, he finds a simpler, more basic truth.

“I thought of him every time I saw you and Brian, and it was destroying me. I had to put it all behind me.”

Roger just stares at him for some seconds.

“Sorry, mate, but it doesn’t seem to me like you’ve done a particularly good job with that.”

Now it’s John the one who stares at Roger, surprised by his words. But Roger’s _right_. His sorrow over Freddie’s death has never been left behind; it’s been with him all these years, an unwanted companion. Maybe distancing himself from Brian and Roger was necessary at the time, but the point is, it hasn’t really worked. Some part of him is still in pain and he still has anxiety attacks when people recognize him in the streets. And the British press... Those vultures. Those _motherfuckers.._. They never showed Freddie any respect, any compassion, not even when he was dying and John will never talk to one of them again. _Ever_.

He realises that his hands have started to shake and forces himself to take a deep breath.

“No, I guess I haven’t”.

They don’t talk much after that, but it’s a comfortable silence. Brian comes down a bit later with a sleepy smile in his face, dressed with jeans and a t-shirt with purple, pink and blue stripes. One of Freddie’s cats is on his shoulder, playing with Brian’s long curls.

“Good morning, guys. Stop it, Tiffany”. Brian sits with them, still petting the cat. “So, we’re still here, aren’t we? I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t wake up at home and find it’s all been a dream”.

“Yeah, same here. There’s fresh coffee there. Try the cookies, they’re great.”

“Everything’s great in this place”, Brian says.

“Well”, Roger ponders, “there should be more girls, if you know what I mean, but yeah, it’s pretty good”.

Brian rolls his eyes at him and then sighs, looking around, which can’t be easy with a cat trying to climb to the top of your head.

“God, no one would believe us, right? If we tell people about this they’ll think we’ve gone crazy.”

“I don’t think we’re supposed to tell”, John warns, maybe a bit too quickly.

“I guess not. Ouch, Tiffany, you’re such a bad girl…” Brian manages to carefully disentangle the cat from his head and leaves her on the floor. Then, he goes to get some coffee, fresh cheese with bread and one lonely cookie. It’s a bit sad, to be honest, and John isn’t surprised when Roger looks at Brian’s choice with obvious distaste.

“Really, Bri? That’s what you’re going to have for breakfast?”

“Oh, don’t start.”

“I’m not! It’s just… I’m not sure you really understand the particularities of our situation, my friend. This isn’t the real world so this isn’t real food. It can’t be. Don’t you see it? It’s your opportunity to _eat bacon and sausages again!”_

He says it like he believes the whole afterlife stuff was created with the only purpose of letting people gorge themselves, which is hilarious. Roger didn’t use to be that obsessed with food back then, but it seems that the diet restrictions that come with old age are driving him crazy. John can relate.

Brian shakes his head, biting a smile. “You may find this difficult to understand, but I don’t really feel like eating bacon and sausages anymore.”

Roger also shakes his head.

“What has happened to you, man?”

But a quick smile at John proves that he is just nagging Brian, something all of them know. Brian keeps eating his boring breakfast and when he finishes, he washes his cup and dish in the sink, now clear of all the stuff they used for dinner last night. Since it is unlikely that Freddie did it, John suspects that there was some afterlife magic involved.

When Roger leaves them for a moment –he goes upstairs to retrieve his sunglasses-, John clears his throat. He is never comfortable talking about feelings or the past, but his conversation with Roger has made him think a bit. There have been too many misunderstandings between them.

“Hey, Brian... I’ve been talking with Roger and I just wanted to tell you that... I’m glad we’re all here, the four of us. It’s just... Well, even thinking about the group was getting harder and harder, you know?”

Brian’s eyes are full of sadness and affection.

“Oh, Deaky... I guess I get it, yeah. I just wish things had gone differently.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Look”, Brian says, after a pause, “I’d really love it if you could come over for dinner from time to time. I know Anita would be thrilled to see you and Veronica again. We don’t have to talk about music or the group at all. But if you can’t do that either, if it’s too stressfu or painful ... just know that I love you, okay? Don’t forget that.”

“Love you too”, John mumbles, hugging him briefly. And it’s true, even if he has made himself forget that some days. “You were a good friend, Bri. To me and to him.” John straightens out, trying to not cry again. It’s getting embarrassing. “Good Lord, what a mess….”

Roger comes down humming and stops when he sees them, testing the waters. His face softens, clearly pleased.

“Look at us, so in touch with our feelings”, he says, sitting down.

John flicks him in the arm.

“Prat.”

Roger doesn’t even react to that.

“Hey, do you know where Freddie is? He isn’t in his room, I just checked."

John feels something cold in his stomach, but he scolds himself out of it. They’re in Freddie’s house, after all, so John can’t have been imagining things. No, he must be around, somewhere. After a brief search they find him lying naked in all his hairy glory under the sun, near the pond. Two of his cats are playing around, bumping their noses.

“Hey, boys, good morning!” Freddie says while using some crumpled T-shirt to cover his bits. ”Have you slept well?”

“Like babies” Brian answers, sitting next to him. John sits at Freddie’s other side, savouring this new opportunity to be with him. “What time is it?”

“About ten o’clock, I think.”

“Hey, Freddie”, Roger says, at the edge of the pond. “Did you say we could swim here?”

“Sure, darling. Go ahead, the water’s wonderful.”

Roger undresses quickly until he is as naked as Freddie and walks into the pond, favouring everyone with a view of his pale ass. Surprisingly, Roger doesn’t start screaming with high-pitched sounds of horror, which means the water must be far, very far from cold. The pond is roughly the size of a swimming pool and soon Roger is swimming around, clearly enjoying himself. John, feeling too dressed, takes off his T-shirt, amused at his own skinny, pale chest and his flat stomach. Brian does the same and after a while, the four of them are naked in the pond, floating and swimming, playing and laughing.

They spend the morning there, leaving the pond occasionally to pet the cats or to get a beer. They aren’t as drunk with youth as the previous day, but John still feels a bit silly and light-headed with happiness, and it’s probably the same for Brian and Roger. At noon, they put on their underwear and have a picnic near the pond. The cats are chasing butterflies and the sun is shining in the blue sky.

* * *

 

John has lost track of time, but at some point in the afternoon, Brian, who was lying down on a deck chair, sits straighter and stretches out with a yawn.

“I don’t want to be that guy, but shouldn’t we be talking about the concert?”

“Yeah”, Roger says, interested. Even John wants to know more details, now that the subject is out. “How are we going to do it?”

Freddie doesn’t seem worried at all.

“I think we’ll have to perform for two hours, maybe two and a half. My throat has never been better, so any song you want, I can sing it.” He seems to be over his occasional insecurity, which means that maybe there won’t be panic attacks coming from him minutes before the concert. John’s really, really thankful for that. “And the equipment will be all ready for us. We only have to decide the order of the songs.”

“What about the piano?” Brian asks. “Are you going to play it too?”

“I wanna play some of the songs, sure. _We are the champions, Somebody to love, You take my breath away…_ But the rest of the time, we’ll have our piano music when we need it. “

“What, like a recording?” Roger says, frowning, always the Guardian of the Essence of True Rock. Although, to be honest, Freddie looks equally horrified.

“No, no, nothing like that. If we need piano music, we’ll have it. We’ll have whatever we need to do our job."

“Have you done this often?” John asks, intrigued.

“A few times, for less people”, Freddie answers, “but this time it’ll be huge. Anyway, Bri, will you sing ’ _39_? I think you should. It really belongs to you.”

“Sure”, Brian says, with a pleased smile.

The four of them didn’t always agree easily with each other –there were some legendary fights through the years- but when they all realised that Freddie was seriously sick, that he was dying, it all stopped. The small things didn’t matter anymore. John’s glad to see they’re all still in the same page. This concert may be cosmically important or whatever, but nothing is more important than enjoying this miracle. There’s no place for pettiness, here.

In spite of Freddie’s reassuring words, they end up rehearsing a bit, especially their latest songs; maybe it is unnecessary, but John doesn’t want to miss any opportunity to play again with him anyway. Nope. And it is fun just in itself. His fingers know exactly what to do; John even tries to miss a note just to see what happens: it takes an actual effort and Freddie frowns at him _hard_ , so John smiles apologetically and doesn’t do it anymore. He knows he is forgiven when they start _Liar_ and Freddie goes to him, inviting him to join the chorus, like he used to do until John grew self-conscious of the way his own voice sounded when compared with the other's. Roger has such a cool raspy voice and Brian’s is so sweet and gentle… But for Freddie, he’ll sing this time.

* * *

 

John can’t sleep that night. He can’t stop thinking that, after the concert, they will have to go back. He misses his wife and his kids and his grandkids, of course, it’s just… He doesn’t want to leave Freddie behind. John sighs, changing his posture, but sleep doesn’t come and after a while, he gets up. Maybe if he drinks some water he’ll be better. Or he could pet one of the cats. Out of his room, he sees there’s still light coming from Freddie’s room and when he goes closer, he hears Freddie humming _Doing All Right_. Before he knows it, he’s knocking gently.

“Come in” John opens the door and he sees that Freddie is in his bed, trying to sketch a portrait of Delilah, who is at his feet, flicking her tail with indifference. “Look, my dear, it’s Deaky. What’s the matter, Johnny?”

“Sorry if I’m bothering you”,

“You’re not, silly.” Freddie pats the bed and John walks there to sit next to him. “Tell me, why are you wandering around the house in the middle of the night? You aren’t usually so gothic. Don’t you like your room?”

“Yes, no, the room is lovely, nothing wrong with it. I just can’t sleep.”

“Why not?” John doesn’t answer; he looks at Freddie’s drawing instead. He knows he is just stalling, but the art really catches his attention. It is quite impressive. Freddie always enjoyed drawing –at college, he was supposed to become a graphic designer or something like that-, but he’s definitely improved in this place.

“That’s not so bad. Did you new friend Leonardo give you some advice?”

Freddie does again the smile with the squinty eyes.

“He’s such a handful… But don’t tell Brian or he’ll spend the rest of his time here pestering me with questions”. It is meant to be a joke, but at the remainder that they’re going to leave, John lowers his eyes, trying to hide his sadness. It doesn’t work. “Okay, what’s going on? Why the sad face?”

John shakes his head, still avoiding Freddie’s eyes.

“It’s nothing, just… We’ll go back after the concert, won’t we?”

“Of course, you lot aren’t dead yet”.

“Yeah, but what about you? What will you do?”

“I’ll stay here. This place is my home, now.” John nods because, what else can he do? Even if Freddie could go back with them, how could it work? He would have to stay hidden or the whole world would go completely crazy. People weren’t supposed to resurrect, after all. John understands that. It sucks anyway. “John… Johnny, c’me here, darling”.

John looks up and sees that Freddie is raising the sheets in invitation. He wants to accept that invitation so badly that it is almost embarrassing: he’s a grown up, a _grandfather_ , for God’s sake, not a small kid afraid of the dark. But when Freddie tilts his head, like he’s wondering if John’s going to be difficult, John sighs and follows his heart. Soon his head is resting on Freddie’s shoulder and his hand is lying on Freddie’s hairy chest, where his heart is _beating_. Freddie turns the lights off and starts speaking in a very gentle voice while his fingers pet John’s hair, John’s arm.

“You’re such a sweet thing... I love you so much… You’ve always been like a little brother to me. I still remember the day you came to us, so cute and young and talented. And way more mature than the three of us together.” John laughs a bit because that’s so true. “Yeah, that’s better. You need to stop worrying, Deaky. I’ll be fine, I swear it. And one day, hopefully not in many, many years, you all will come here too, this time for real. Forever. We’ll see each other again and we’ll play together again, if we want to. And remember, I’m not alone here. I’ve got Jim and my parents and Delilah and a lot of good friends, new and old.” Freddie gives him a kiss on the forehead and John closes his eyes. “Don’t be sad for me, darling. Everything bad went away the moment I arrived here.”

* * *

 

They spend the next morning fooling around and playing Scrabble, but the air seems a bit changed. There is a concert coming up and John, like Brian and Roger, still doesn’t know exactly what to expect, which means they are a bit nervous. Brian is also dying to see a bit more of the afterlife: he’s thinking so hard that John can almost hear it. Soon, Roger starts playing with his drumsticks, twirling them in his hands, using the table as a drum. Before lunch, John has his first vodka, not because he needs it, but because its taste seems like a tradition he has to follow. It is almost a relief when Freddie says it is time to get dressed up.

“Here?” Roger asks.

“Yeah, it’s better this way”.

It isn’t usual, but why not? Brian and Roger also follow Freddie’s instructions without objections. John goes up to his bedroom and stares at the clothes in the wardrobe. When they became big, they always used to wear light colours on stage, so people could spot them from far away. John chooses to follow that tradition too and picks some white jeans and a light green short-sleeved shirt. He looks at himself in the mirror of the wardrobe door. His clothes were way more outrageous when he was really that age –his kids love to look at his old pictures and laugh at him-, but John doesn’t think he can still rock those looks without feeling deeply embarrassed. He completes his costume with the most comfy shoes he can find.

When he meets the others, he sees that Brian has chosen a white shirt which looks vaguely Middle Ages and Roger is looking absolutely stunning, with a heavy dose of eye-liner, a bracelet on his right arm, no shirt and red (and extremely tight) trousers.

“How did you manage to get into that, Rog?” John asks, jokingly.

“Eyes up, Birdman”, Roger replies, smug. “It’s not my fault if I’m the only one in this group with a real fashion sense”.

Brian rolls his eyes, hiding a smile.

“Oh, my God, I had forgotten what a ponce you were”.

Roger also pretends to frown.

“Shut up”.

But then he grins shamelessly, showing the point of his tongue between his teeth, and Brian chuckles, looking down at his feet in an endearing way, like a shy teenager who still can’t believe the prettiest coolest boy in the school likes him so much. Amused, John shakes his head, but he is distracted by Freddie’s steps coming down the stairs.

“Are you ready? I’m ready!” He jumps down the last three stairs and lands in front of them, dressed in white trousers, a blue tank top with silver lines and his usual Adidas trainers. Without a pause, he opens his arms and his mouth and throws his head back. “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeooooooo”.

Roger shouts back, of course and damn, so close, both of them are deafening. John and Brian share a pained, resigned smile. The screaming doesn’t last much, thankfully, and then Freddie takes a moment to look at them with clear approval.

“You all look amazing, darlings. I’d fuck all of you right here.”

“Thank you, Fred, it means a lot”, Roger deadpans.

Freddie giggles and slaps him on the arm playfully. 

"Just joking, you silly. You look fine”. He sobers up a little. “Okay, a warning first. Don’t be surprised if everything looks grey and awful when we arrive. It’s the pain, you know. So keep playing. The people you’ll see there won’t react to us at first, but if we do our job, everything will get better and they’ll end up dancing and singing with us. It feels like magic”.

“Okay” Brian agrees. “Anything else?”

Freddie thinks for a second and shakes his head.

“I don’t think so. Well, are you ready to go?”

“And our instruments?” Roger asks.

“Oh, they’ll be there”.

“Then we’re ready”, Brian says.

Freddie nods and snaps his fingers. John looks around.

* * *

 

They’re somewhere indoors, some kind of backstage. It doesn’t look as awful as Freddie suggested, just a bit dull. He forgets about that when Freddie smiles, screams “Jim!” and runs towards a familiar man. It is a cute moment, although John feels a bit uncomfortable too and he can tell that Roger and Brian are also remembering that the three of them broke off their relationship with Jim when the man wrote a book about his life with Freddie. To be honest, John still disapproves, but it’s Freddie’s opinion that really counts.

When all the kissing comes to an end, a beaming and swollen-lipped Freddie takes Jim’s hand and brings him to where they are. It is obvious that Jim doesn’t know how they are going to react to him. Brian is the first to offer his hand, always polite.

“Hey, Jim, it’s good to see you”.

“Same here. I’m glad you decided to help Freddie”.

Roger and John follow after that and Freddie looks so happy next to Jim that John notices his old grudge against this man slowly dimming. Yeah, it’s been a long time and maybe Freddie is right and it doesn’t matter anymore. He doesn’t even know for sure why Jim wrote that book. Perhaps it was for money, yes; perhaps he was trying to deal with his own pain, to reclaim his love story with Freddie.

Time to let it go, Deacon, he thinks.

“How are you handling your visit to the afterlife?” Jim asks.

“It’s been a blast, man”, Roger says. “Freddie almost shocked us to death, but it’s been worth it”.

“There wasn’t really a good way to do that” Freddie says, which is probably true. Then he grabs Jim’s arm. “How do I look, Cookie?”

“Perfect, as usual”.

“Don’t you think I should wear something more… flamboyant? They’re a hard bunch.”

“Freddie, baby, it doesn’t matter. You conquered the world with jeans and a white tank top.”

When John is wondering if they are going to have to deal with Freddie’s panic attack after all, Freddie just nods, so quickly convinced that John can barely believe it.

“Yes, you’re right. I shouldn’t worry about that. Okay, guys, we’re starting in five minutes, so why don’t you go have a look? You may need a bit to get used to it.”

Intrigued by his words, John follows his advice and goes with Roger and Brian to the extreme of the room. That’s where John notices that they should be hearing the crowd by now, but out there there’s nothing but complete silence. When he peeks from behind an amplifier, a horrified gasp leaves his lips.

“Fuck” Roger exclaims, shocked.

What they can see of the stage looks very familiar –the drums set over a platform, with a second level behind with stairs on both sides- but the rest is… haunting. There’s no other word. Under an oppressive dark grey sky, a huge silent crowd of maybe a quarter of million people waits for them with their heads down. They’re all wearing grey rags and their hair falls greasy and limp over their faces. John is sure that if he could see their eyes, all he’d find would be dead, empty stares.

“Are they real people?” John says, in a whisper. “You know, like Freddie and Jim”.

“I don’t think so” Brian answers. He’s a bit pale, all dark eyes. “I believe they’re the souls or whatever you want to call it of people who are still alive.”

“Souls?” Roger says faintly, taking a step back. “This is too metal even for me”.

Brian grabs Roger’s arms and looks at him with determination.

“Remember what Freddie told us. This is the pain and the suffering we’ve come to heal.” He looks at John too. “It’ll get better.”

John agrees. He has to get his shit together. He can’t let Freddie or all these people down.

“Yeah, you’re right”.

They really need these five minutes to process the unsettling view. John’s skin may be crawling, but the idea that he must help all those people grows stronger inside him. He knows what it is to feel like that, dead and colourless. When he hears Freddie coming, he’s ready to do what he must.

“It’s awful, isn’t it?” he says, with his hand on Brian’s shoulder. “I almost couldn’t do it the first time. Remember, they won’t react at first. Just keep going, okay?”

“Sure” Brian says. “You can count on us, Freddie”. Freddie smiles at him and squeezes Brian’s shoulder. Then he looks at John, who nods. He’s fine, he really is. Here and now, he can play.

“Ready, girls?”

“Let’s rock them”.

* * *

 

It’s creepy as fuck.

They go to their places, the lights turn on, and they come onto the stage playing the first lines of _Now I’m here_. They’re welcomed by complete, absolute silence, but Freddie’s singing anyway, and they follow the best they can. Luckily, the afterlife magic is helping them a bit, so they still sound pretty good. John, nervous, tries to focus on his bass. He can pretend they’re just shooting a video or rehearsing and so, there’s no reason to expect the cheering of the crowd.

Their second song is _We will rock yo_ u and John starts clapping with Freddie and Brian (and Jim, who is watching from behind an amplifier). No one else does. The people in the crowd aren’t even looking at them yet. John shares a quick look with Brian and keeps clapping his hands, feeling a bit ridiculous. Freddie’s growly voice helps, though. And the way he goes to them, one by one, dancing with them, making silly moves, mimicking what they are doing. He always did that back them, John muses. Taking care of them, making sure they were fired up and feeling it. John joins the chorus this time; the more the merrier. And in spite of everything, Brian kills it when the guitar solo comes in. Good, that’s good.

They follow with _A kind of magic._ The crowd isn’t reacting yet but John feels more comfortable now. He’s enjoying himself, way more than he thought he would. Of course, Freddie makes all the difference. He walks around the stage with his elastic step, waves at the crowd and sings his heart out. If he is faking his enthusiasm, well, he is doing it very convincingly. John lets himself go and starts moving a bit, following the rhythm of the music. Some seconds later, Freddie comes closer and dances a bit with him until Brian starts another guitar solo.

“I like it, Brian!” Freddie shouts, going towards him. Then, he laughs like he did in the video. “It’s magic!”

Yes, yes, it is, John thinks.

The song ends and Freddie sits at the piano to sing _You take my breath away._ Since all the lights are on him, John is free to go behind his amp and have a sip. But fuck, Freddie’s voice is absolutely breathtaking this time, otherworldly. He has to stop and just listen in wonder. Every single word is rich with emotion. How can he do that? He closes his eyes and lets the ethereal song fill his heart.

And when Freddie finishes, John hears the softest murmur coming from the crowd. The lights are on again so John looks at Brian and Roger, to see if they have heard it too. It seems so, judging by their expressions. Wow. Finally! A smiling Freddie grabs his main mic and walks to the middle of the stage.

“Thank you, darlings. You’re all beautiful. I wish I could fuck all of you.” Normally, this declaration used to be followed by a roar of appreciation coming from every person in the crowd, sexual orientation be damned, but this time there’s nothing. Freddie seems equally pleased, though. “We’re going to play a very different song now. It’s called _Fat Bottomed Girls_.”

Roger hits his drumsticks three times and he, Brian and Freddie begin to sing a capella in perfect harmony, each voice complementing the others’. John waits and joins them with the bass when Freddie hits the first verse with a deep, rough voice. It’s a fun, silly song. John hops, Roger screams like a cowboy from time to time and Freddie shakes his ass a lot, especially when he doesn’t have to sing. And yes, yes, after the three final chords there’s definitely a whisper, a slight reaction. John claps at the crowd, trying to cheer them up a bit more.

They go hard after that with _Stone Cold Crazy, Hammer to Fall, One Vision_ and _I want it all_. The reaction of the crowd is more visible now and John has the feeling that their grey rags have more tonalities. Maybe it’s a trick of the light. But maybe not. Freddie goes to sit again in front of the piano and they play _Killer Queen_ , a difficult song to sing, full of highs and lows. It’s one of John’s favourites. And Freddie, who used to avoid the high notes live, goes for every one of them this time and he nails them with… well, a laser beam precision. And it isn't just him. Brian and Roger had often problems with the harmonies of this song, but this time they are absolutely flawless.

The crowd is shuffling their feet now.

So they keep going, song after song. John’s totally in the zone, now, dancing and hopping without a worry, but he still glances at Freddie from time to time. He doesn’t want to miss anything, the way Freddie teases Brian, the way he mimics Roger during the drum solos, his sunny smiles when they have a particularly brilliant moment. Between song and song, he often takes a moment to talk to the crowd, telling them that he loves them, that they are amazing and wonderful and “sexy fucks”. He’s got compliments for the rest of the band too. Roger is a “fucking wild beast”, John gets called “funky king” and “tiger” and Brian, Freddie assures conspiratorially to the crowd, has a huge cock.

His energy is infectious. Really, no one can compare to him.

They play _Liar_ and Freddie comes closer to John for the transition and shares his mic with him. Alright, then. John joins him, closing his eyes, sweaty and all fired up. _All day long, all day long…_ Freddie’s back is pressed against his chest and he is wiggling his ass against John’s crotch. Yeah, thanks for the boner, Freddie. But his presence is intoxicating and John misses him when he goes away, still singing, fierce like a lion. Okay, John sighs, time to focus. He and Brian have a great moment coming up and he wants to do it right. He licks his fingers and goes for it. Yeah, that’s right. Good girl, he thinks, (because if he sometimes talks to his bass guitar, that’s his business). He’s acing it.

When the song ends, the crowd claps. It’s faint, but it’s clearly there and it sounds like the best success. John shares a smile with a beaming Roger, whose hair is wrenched with sweat. Time to shine, Rainbow Man. Freddie goes to the piano and it’s Roger who lets go a high-pitched moan before hitting the first notes of _I’m in love with my car_. How sad is it that John has grown fond of the damn song over the years? Roger makes the stage tremble with his drums, powerful like a skinny god of thunder, and the people clap again, a bit louder. Now John can see shades of different colours in their clothes; still muted, maybe, but colours after all.

“Roger Taylor, ladies and gentleman.” Freddie bows at Roger, who salutes him with one of his drumsticks. “Yeah, this is great! This is rock! This is good music! Let’s hear now some iconic bass lines! Hit it, Johnny!”

John plays the first chords of _Under Pressure_ , wondering suddenly if David is also there, maybe playing somewhere else, but his thoughts only wander for a couple of seconds before his attention is caught by the song. John smiles when he hears Freddie going firmly for the falsetto he didn’t usually dare to do live, with this song. As far as he can tell, Brian and Roger are nailing the harmonies too. When the song comes to an end, Freddie raises his fist and for the first time since the beginning of the concert, there are some cries among the people in the audience. John’s smile grows bigger. Fuck, yeah. They’re doing it. At the end of _Another one bites the dust_ , which comes next, it’s almost, almost like they are in front of real people.

It’s time for _Bohemian Rhapsody_ and when somehow the operatic section kicks in, they take the opportunity to leave the stage for a couple of minutes.

“Did you see it?” Freddie says, excited. “It’s working! They’re getting better!”

“It’s amazing” Roger says. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure it would work. It was so creepy at first!”

“Yeah, but they’re really changing”, Brian says, shaking his head in amazement.

John agrees wholeheartedly, but he’s spotted a small table with some bottles and he’s too busy drinking a shot of vodka. And oh, there are peanuts too. He sticks a handful in his mouth and saves a bunch in his pocket so he can throw them at Brian later, during his _Brighton Rock_ solo. Heh.

“Two more songs and I’ll have them singing”, Freddie says, making it sound like a promise. “I think we should do _Somebody to love_ then, instead of _I want to break_ _free._ They’re ready. What do you say?”

John can’t remember if they ever changed the order of the songs in the middle of a concert (unlikely), but after the first second of surprise, he thinks they can do it. It’s not like they have to worry about technical issues. Brian and Roger agree easily, too.

“Sure, Freddie, why not”.

 _“Mamma mia let me go”_ means it’s time to go back. John unbuttons his shirt, takes a deep breath and gets ready for some rock and roll.

* * *

 

Freddie keeps his promise.

After _Keep yourself alive_ and _You’re my best friend_ (John makes sure to glare at Roger when Freddie doesn’t say exactly ‘ _I’m happy at home_ ’) it’s time for _Somebody to love._ Freddie sits at the piano and plays the introduction, singing beautifully. This is such a brilliant song, so full of joy in spite of the somewhat sad lyrics. And it lets Freddie channel his inner Aretha Franklin, which is always a thing of beauty. But John knows why Freddie was so interested in moving this song forward: when the gospel part begins, Freddie, on his feet again, struts around the stage, and moves his arm, and encourages the crowd into clapping and singing. John and Brian are clapping too, arms raised. “

C’mon everyone! Yeah, yeah...”

It starts slowly, very slowly, but the crowd does it. They follow the music and John can hear their voices, singing softly. _Find me somebody to love, find me somebody to love._ John joins his bandmates too and sings with them to give their sound a bit more of back up. Freddie notices immediately and goes back to talk to the crowd.

“Everybody! C’mon! I like it!”

Yes, they sound louder now and some of them are even clapping. There are so many people there that it’s enough to make it count. The chorus grows in intensity. Roger is hitting his drums with everything he’s got and Freddie goes back to the piano for the final coda. John waits, still. He _knows_ it’s going to be awesome. And then Freddie goes for the higher notes of the studio version and goes lower again and lands the last notes with a powerful, beautiful voice. John has goosebumps all over the skin, but he hears Roger keeping time with this drumsticks and one, two, three, they reprise the song for the final part and Freddie does indeed lets his inner Aretha Franklin go. John has to laugh and clap at him. Amazing, just amazing.

And they’ve got the first ovation of the night.

John looks at the people, at their faces. The change is unbelievable. They look so happy now, they really do and John hears his own heart beating with joy in response.

From that moment on, they belong to Freddie. First, he makes them sing with _I want to break free_ and a _Little thing called love_. The group slows down a bit with Who wants to live forever (Brian sings the parts he sang in the studio version, sounding like the sweetest thing), but then it’s time for _Radio Ga-ga_ and Freddie rocks them all like a fucking god. Everyone is clapping their hands all at once, a sight that has always left John breathless. They’ve done it. They’ve helped all those people. Freddie is beaming with joy, rightly proud of himself.

“Oh, my God, that was brilliant! That’s right, darlings, show me what you’ve got. Eeeeoo”.

John holds his breath, but they answer back. Of course they do.

“Eeeeoo”

“Louder than that! Eeeeeoooo”.

They answer again, they answer back every bloody time, trying to repeat Freddie’s calls and John shakes his head. How must Freddie feel, holding a quarter of million people in the palm of his hand? Commanding all of them? Roger and Brian are watching him too with awed expressions. This is something they haven’t seen again since Freddie died. John shares a smile with them and reveals in his love and admiration for Freddie, drowning in happiness.

When Freddie’s satisfied, they keep going. They tackle some of the tracks Freddie wasn’t able to sing live due to that damn illness. _A miracle, Headlong, These are the days of our lives, I’m going slightly mad_ and _The show must go on_. This concert is such a _gift._ John feels close to crying several times and sees Brian wiping away a tear at least twice, but they manage to go through all of them without losing it. After that, they go back to the older songs again. It’s time for Brian, who sings a fast and fun version of _39_ ’ while Roger gets to be with them for once, shaking the tambourine like a madman and having a blast. Freddie laughs and yowls and plays air guitar. They follow with _Don’t stop me now_ and _It’s a hard life_ (such a horrid, embarrassing video) and then Freddie and Brian get ready for _Love of my life_.

Please, sing with him, John begs to the crowd. To Freddie, this is always a precious, special moment. John could go to the restroom now and drink something, but he doesn’t and neither does Roger, who leaves the drums set to stand next to him. John puts an arm around Roger’s shoulders and together, they watch their friends.

And when everyone in the whole place starts singing with Freddie, it’s the most beautiful thing John has ever seen or heard.

* * *

 

The concert is coming to an end. Wherever John looks, he only sees people dancing, jumping and singing with happiness and excitation. The sky has cleared up and the moon is coming up on the horizon, full and majestic. After one rendition of _Ride the wild wind_ , it’s time for the next-to-last song, _Heaven for everyone_ , a sweet poppy song from their last album, the one they produced after Freddie’s death. John feels tired and exhilarated and a bit sad: this is the kind of concert which should last forever. Freddie’s glistening with sweat (he lost his blue tank top after _Stone Cold Crazy_ ) but his voice is still absolutely flawless. Not a waiver, not a single crack.

“Thank you, thank you, my dears. You’ve been wonderful.” Freddie blows kisses to the crowd. “Yeah, I love you all. Don’t forget that, okay? _We_ love you. Brian, Roger, John and me. Right, boys?”

“Damn right!” Roger shouts.

“We’ll never forget you” Brian promises.

“Yeah, I wish we could keep going forever, but it’s time to say goodbye. So sing with us, okay? We’re all champions here.”

John closes his eyes for a second. It hurts, this ending, but… Yeah, he understands. He’ll be able to remember all this with a smile.

Freddie, sitting at the piano, begins the first lines of We are the champions. When the chorus kicks in, everyone in this place, John included, joins at the top of their lungs. Freddie sings the second part and when the chorus starts again, he gets up, runs to the middle of the stage and his voice is _roaring_

 _We are the champions, my friend_ , John chants. _And we’ll keep on fighting ‘til the end. We are the champions, we are the champions_. Freddie raises one arm as he sings the final “ _Of the world_ ” and the ovation is so deafening it’s literally shaking the stage like an earthquake. John has been in front of so many people before, but it wasn’t like that. He never felt like he could fly. Freddie bows at the crowd, grinning, and turns back to bow at them too with shining eyes, forever full of love and greatness. With tears in his eyes, John puts his bass at his back and runs towards him. They hug, the four of them do. Thank you, thank you, you’re great, love you so much, they all say, they all feel. It’s a perfect, fleeting moment which can’t last forever. And so, waving at the happy, luminous crowd, they leave the stage.

* * *

 

It's time to go. They say goodbye to Jim, who leaves, after which they face Freddie, now wearing a blue jumper.

 “Are you ready to go back?”

“I don’t know” Brian says, laughing a bit. “I wouldn’t mind learning a bit more about this place”.

 Freddie shakes his head and wiggles a finger at him.

“Not yet. And by the way, I want you to promise me something. I’m serious here, Bri.”

“Okay, I’m listening”.

“Don’t get obsessed with this afterlife stuff, do you hear me? Don’t try to prove it with science: you’ll be wasting your time and all you’ll get will be a bad reputation. I mean it. Roger, make sure he listens, will you?”

Roger looks at Brian with some concern and nods, serious.

“You’ve got it”. Brian seems to believe Freddie, though, so John thinks he’ll be alright.

“Johnny” Freddie says then. He kisses John lightly on the lips. “You’ll always be my sweet pretty boy, honey.”

John can’t talk, so he just nods, knowing that Freddie will understand. And with a snap of fingers, they’re all back in John’s kitchen, wearing their clothes and being old again.

The miracle is almost over and John feels a bit dizzy, heavier, smaller.

“Oh, man, this _sucks_ ” Roger complains.

Freddie is still with them, though, looking at Roger with a wistfully smile.

“You’re still a hot grandpa, Rog.”

“Meh, I was hotter before”.

“Oh, don’t be so vain” Brian whispers, elbowing him. Freddie chuckles.

“Well, time to say goodbye. Take care of each other, okay?” He starts hugging them one last time. “I’m gonna miss you terribly, but I don’t want to see any of you there in a long, long time, do you hear me? Be happy, darlings, and remember these days.”

John’s eyes are full of tears, and the last thing he wants is to lose him again, but he finds himself at peace too, heart bursting with love. He knows now that Freddie will be fine, that they will meet one day.

I love you, he thinks.

With a last smile, Freddie bows at them and disappears.

* * *

 

For a while, none of them says anything. It’s hard to process everything they’ve gone through in these last days. It’s sad to be without Freddie again. Brian breaks the silence first.

“Wow… Not your usual Saturday morning, that’s for sure”.

“Is it still Saturday morning?” Roger wonders after a moment. They’ve got their mobile phones again and yes, it’s still Saturday morning, albeit a couple of hours later. Roger and Brian have a lot of messages and lost calls from their wives, probably worried about John’s unexpected phone call. They answer back with quick messages.

“What should we tell them?” Brian asks. “I know we can’t tell the truth, but they’ll want to know why you called us, Deaky”.

John shrugs.

“Tell them I wanted to talk with you about these last years. Tell them I had dreamt of Freddie or something like that”.

Brian and Roger share a look and they shrug too.

“Yeah, I guess it could work. And it’s not that far from the truth, right?” Brian gets another message in his phone and sighs. “It’s Anita. We’re supposed to meet some friends today for lunch”.

Roger frowns apologetically.

“Shit, I’ve got an appointment too”.

“Listen, John, we’ve got to go now, but we can have dinner at my place next Saturday, what do you say?” Brian says, with a hopeful look. “I want to buy a new camera and I could use your advice. And Anita will be thrilled. Do you like risotto?”

John realises he wants that, he wants to see them again. As long as there’s no press around, it’ll be fine.

“I guess so. Yeah, that sounds nice. I’m sure Veronica will love to see you as well”.

Brian beams at him and for a moment, John sees the handsome young man he used to be. Yes, it’s not only Freddie that John has been missing.

“Perfect. Roger, will you and Sarina come?”

“Of course, I have to watch you closely, remember?”

John chuckles. 

"I’ll behave” Brian promises. “Freddie’s right, this is the kind of experience that belongs to the heart, not to the brain. Aaaand I should stop using the present tense or everyone will think I’ve gone crazy anyway”.

“Yeah, we’ll have to watch that” Roger says. “Well, Deaky, see you next Saturday. We’ll bemoan Brian’s vegetarianism together”.

They hug briefly.

“I can’t wait”.

Roger slaps his shoulder.

“You were a mean bassist”.

Yes. Yes, he was.

“We were the best”. He hugs Brian too, burying his head in Brian’s curly mane. “I’ll call you around Friday, okay?”

“Great. Take care, Birdman”.

They leave together and get into their cars. John watches from the door, smiling, and when they’re gone, he goes into his house again. It feels a bit empty now, but the new memories are worth it. No doubt about that. He goes to the kitchen and remembers Freddie sitting there, having a cuppa, laughing at Roger, asking about the Internet and the videos of cats on YouTube. Yeah, Freddie’s left, but this time, John can still feel his presence in his heart.

And he wonders suddenly if one of the souls they have healed wasn't his own.

It’s almost eleven o’clock and Veronica wants him to fix an old lamp, a hideous family heirloom. He needs to buy a couple of things first, though. Okay then, time to visit his favourite electricity store.  John takes his keys, his coat and his cap and leaves the house.

And softly, very softly, he starts singing _Doing all right._

**The end**


End file.
